


Sweat and Swords

by milkfruit



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Anal, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Scent Kink, bottom!Owain, this is so long and i apologize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkfruit/pseuds/milkfruit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brady is getting pretty sick of being useless on the battlefield outside of healing, so he enlists training from Owain (or, more accurately, Owain volunteers to teach Brady). Things become much different between them as time wears on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat and Swords

**Author's Note:**

> This monster is exactly 17 pages on Google Docs. Just a forewarning that this is a pretty long fic for a very underappreciated pairing. Enjoy!

Brady was nothing compared to his comrades. He knew it all too well. On the battlefield, he wasn't good for much besides healing. No matter how many times Lucina sugar-coated it and told him he didn't need weapons to be a valuable ally, it really made him feel inferior to see his teammates cutting down brigands while Brady took cover until he was needed. Quite frankly, it sucked. Hell, even _Ma_ knew her way around a tome!

He decided that, to truly be useful, he had to do his part in protecting his comrades even when they were taking hits. He had to prevent them from getting hurt in the first place. To do that, he needed to learn how to use a weapon. Any weapon would do. But, of course, he needed a mentor; guy couldn't teach himself complex moves, after all. Lucky for him, he had capable warriors all over camp that could assist him in his endeavor!

...And yet hardly any of them were up to the task.

Yarne and Nah were out of the question immediately since he couldn't just turn into an animal, Gerome said he "was no teacher," (drama queen), Inigo apparently had "dates" (lies), Severa outright refused, Kjelle was more worried about training herself, and the rest had excuses just as bad. Lucina would just give him that spiel about him being an able comrade despite his lack of weapon. Morgan was the only one who attempted to teach Brady in tomes (he claimed he wasn't skilled enough in swordplay to teach it), and even then, it ended up with... minimal results. In the end, Morgan just said Brady didn't have a natural talent for magic, and he could be of no help. Brady apologized for being a burden to Morgan, and continued his search elsewhere.

He had asked the whole camp by nightfall, and he was about to just give up and return to his tent, as curfew was fast approaching and he'd hate to get chastised by Ma for not making it back... Until a voice in the distance caught his attention.

"Hoy there, Brady!" _Gods, not this kook._ Brady had purposefully been avoiding Owain this entire time, dreading the lecture about swordsmanship he'd get if he asked. But word spread quickly in this place, and he was bound to find out sometime...

"Owain," he greets dryly, noticing that Owain was panting, likely having sprinted here after hearing about his offer.

"Indeed, it is I, the only one who can properly instruct you in the ways of the blade!" Oh man, here it comes. "I have considered you as my apprentice, as I am the only one for the job!"

"Can it, Owain, I can find any schmuck in this camp to teach me how to use a weapon, so save your bre-"

"Oh HO, but the tale I've heard is different! No one in camp has fulfilled the role of your mentor, correct? Fate truly is in favor of having me as your sensei!"

"...Shut up, will ya?" He says, defeated. Damn. Someone must have told him that everyone had turned him down, otherwise he wouldn't be here... "And keep your voice down, don't you know the others are probably in bed by now?" Brady turns around, heading back to encampment, tired from this whole Gods-forsaken day.

"A true warrior never sleeps!" He's like a little kid who took playing ninja way too seriously. Owain is in front of him, fast as ever but still visibly exhausted from the run over here. "Do I have your approval?" His blue eyes shine like stars in the dense moonlight, a hopeful twinkle in them that Brady can't say no to. Why does he have to be such a softy?

"So be it," he says, and Owain bounces in joy, but Brady follows up his statement with an assertive, "But only 'cuz I'm desperate, alright?" Owain grabs his hand and is practically over the moon with happiness.

"I will not let you down!" He makes for camp with a hop in his step, leaving Brady bewildered, and yet charmed by his excitement in some odd way. He smiles to himself and shakes his head.

 

**DAY 1**

Brady slept soundly in his tent that night, but was awakened in the morning by a weight on him and someone shaking his shoulders vigorously.

"What th-?!" Still squinting from the early morning light filtering through the flaps of his tent, he casts an arm over his head, barely making out a figure looming over him. He didn't even need a face to know who it was.

"Awaken, Brady!" Fuck. His eyes blink open, and Owain is awake early and is as chipper as ever. The light around him haloes his lean shoulders, golden hair, makes his crystalline blue eyes shimmer like precious jewels, and his smile is so--

"What for?" He grumbles, pushing away his own thoughts.

"Why, training of course!" He all but drags Brady up by his arm despite the tired groan Brady lets out, and he's up with his hair messy from sleep and his eyes drooping slightly. Brady suddenly regrets his decision from last night, realizing Owain is in his lap still, waiting for a response, a smile still on his face.

"Fine. I'm comin'. Just... Gimme a minute,"

"Understood! But don't be late, or I'll have to come get you again!" With that, he takes his leave, and Brady rolls his eyes. What exactly constituted as "late" for him, anyways?

After throwing on his casual clothing and fixing up his hair a bit (as per the usual routine), he meets Owain in the training barracks, where he seems to have everything set up, an enthusiastic air radiating off of him like an aura. "Ah, you've come!" He says, clad in his smallclothes (a short-sleeved shirt and his usual pants).

"Well, you threatened to jump on me again if I didn't, so I didn't have a choice, did I?" He snaps back, scratching the back of his head. Brady makes for a sparring sword, but Owain stops him.

"Not so fast," he chuckles. "Swordplay is more than sparring. It includes observing as well," he does that fucking hand thing again, and gives a haughty laugh. "And besides, you wouldn't be able to stay my sword hand so easily!"

Brady sighs, putting his hands up in defeat. "Then what is it you want me to 'observe'?"

Without directly answering the question, Owain draws a very real and authentic sword instead of a sparring one, a satisfying metallic swipe sound emitting from the sheath. "From now on, you will address me as 'sensei,' student!" He gives the sword an experimental swing and seems content with the weapon he chose.

"Forget it," Brady scoffs, and Owain gestures for Brady to come closer. He does, and Owain takes a stance.

"Now, watch closely, student. This is the form of a true swordsman." The myrmidon flexes a bit, and he takes the stance he usually has in battle, although all his angles are exposed like this. His grip was firm, his feet planted firmly in the ground, apart at just the right length, and his arms bent in such a way that his sword was unwavering and perfectly positioned. He looked almost fearsome, but Brady knew that Owain's personality completely killed any threatening presence he may have about him.

He spins his sword and sticks the blade in the ground, his "warrior" facade fading back into the Owain he knew. "There! I hope you studied it well, for it is your turn to take arms," Brady gulps, nervous he'd get it wrong, but lets Owain pass the sword onto him anyways.

He attempts to copy the stance until he's sure he got it right, and Owain rubs his chin thoughtfully. "A reasonable effort, but you are missing something," Owain raises Brady's left elbow slightly, and comes behind him and lowers his right one. "Your sword was at an odd angle," He taps Brady's ankle with his foot, spreading his feet further apart. "And keep your legs equidistant. You don't want to fall all over yourself."

Brady watches all of Owain's little movements and adjustments through the corner of his eyes, and is surprised Owain was so to-the-point. Impressed, even. "Now, drop arms and try it again without my help until you've got it!"

"What? I want to learn how to fight, not how to stand,"

Owain simply laughs at the complaint, "Stance is everything! It's your balance! You cannot fight unless you have a reliable stance, my pupil! You have much to learn!"

He mastered the offensive stance after about fifteen minutes, Owain walking him throughout the whole thing. Soon after, they segwayed into the defensive stance, which he rarely sees Owain take (mostly since he's able to overtake an enemy with his first stance alone).

"Defense is crucial," he paces like a real teacher, but without all the real seriousness. "You must learn to protect yourself if an enemy has especially strong techniques,"

He assumes a different stance, body compact and arms drawn in with his blade pointed with the offensive end up. He lets Brady get a look at it before passing him the sword. "Now you."

Brady tries to emulate it to the T this time, but still, he is flawed. "Hmm, almost got it! Except," Owain comes behind him, and Brady is impatient.

"What is it now? I swear, you're too picky about--"

He feels hands squeezing his shoulders from behind, forcing him to tense up and his shoulders coming closer together. A breath lingers on his ear, and Owain's voice says, "You're too open," almost uncharacteristically calmly. Brady feels a hot flush infiltrate his face, and he knows that his ears are red too.

 

**DAY 2**

The same rude awakening as the day before is perpetrated by Owain, who is, again, all too excited for their session today. Brady attempts to block out the noise with his pillow this time, but once Owain says they'll be sparring today, he's suddenly less grouchy. Finally, they're getting to the meat of things.

He dresses himself and is led by the hand by Owain back to the training grounds.

"Now that you know your stances, you can fight me," Owain wields his wooden sword proudly regardless of its falsity, and urges Brady to take up arms as well. "I will go easy on you today, but I can't guarantee my sword hand will be quenched by such child's play--"

"Quit yammerin' and get to it," Brady quips, perhaps anxious of his first battle with a weapon in hand. Owain smirks, assuming his own stance as Brady follows suit.

"Then, I won't keep you waiting." He says it confidently, and it was already obvious that Brady was no match for Owain. Perhaps if this were about fists alone, Brady would have a chance, but during a one-on-one sword match? He was dirt compared to the royal-blooded boy. Brady was toppled in a matter of seconds, as Owain lunged forward and Brady didn’t block his attack sufficiently. His weapon was slashed right out of his hands, and he fell backwards with Owain pointing the tip of his sword at him. Owain raises an eyebrow, a cocky smile in place of his usual bright one.

“...I wasn’t ready that time!” Brady brushes himself off as he gets back on his feet.

“Were you not the one telling me to hurry up?”

“Oh, put a lid on it!” He sighs in exasperation. “...Aren’t you gonna tell me what I did wrong?”

Owain welcomes the change of heart, and he thrusts a sword back into Brady’s hands. “The way you stood looked fine, you probably just got nervous and failed to stand your ground.” It wasn’t out of the question that Brady got nervous; he wasn’t used to his teammate coming at him so viciously, even if he did instigate it.

“Right, well excuse me for tensing up when I see someone comin’ at me with intent to kill,”

“I told you I’d go easy on you, didn’t I? If you cannot handle my worst, you certainly can’t handle an enemy’s best! Let us try it once more,”

And they do. Again and again, they practice, and Brady is soon able to block a few basic attacks on his own, Owain praising him every so often. In spite of Owain’s “colorful” personality, he… wasn’t a bad teacher. Not that he’d ever say that to the prince’s face, but he’d be lying if he outright denied it. Owain was talented, skilled in royal swordplay, something that was only the privilege of the exalt’s family, and yet he was happily teaching what he knew to Brady without so much as a second thought… Of course, it’s entirely possible that Brady, being of noble blood himself, was worthy of learning it, if no one else.

Physically, Brady is no one to scoff at, but when Owain darts towards him like a bat outta Hell with his sword drawn and an unfamiliar glint in his eyes, it’s hard to maintain composure. His first instinct isn’t to fight back, it’s to run, and that may be exactly what his problem was.

Nevertheless, after about an hour of simply blocking and holding his ground, pausing for Owain to assess his progress, he got defense down pat. At this point, Owain was reasonably tired, although not outright exhausted, a bit of sweat on his brow making his hair stick to his face. His breathing was a little shallow and irregular, and he wiped his forehead with his forearm, making blond bangs sweep to the side. “Well, you seem to have got it. Next time, we’ll work on offense. It’ll be a challenge, so prepare yourself,”

He was sure it’d be a challenge if Owain was this strong when Brady was defending alone.

“Yeah, whatever,” Brady turns to leave without another word, and looks over his shoulder briefly to see Owain with his back turned to him, peeling off his shirt and shaking out his hair, sullied with his sweat. Brady turns fiery red and can’t get out of there faster.

**DAY 3**

Owain wakes Brady up the same way he has been for the past two days. He’s back in Brady’s lap, urging the priest to get up because they had “a long day of training ahead of them.” Brady closes a hand over Owain’s face and pushes him off, muttering a low, “I hear ya,” as he slowly comes back to his senses. Owain is like a faithful puppy, and isn’t offended at all, only goes to wait in their usual spot as Brady goes about his routine ( _was it_ routine now?).

He’s earlier than usual, Owain greeting him as he enters the barracks.

“Are you ready to begin?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” He was anxious about fighting Owain. He was scared of hurting him, of being inadequate, and of forgetting all of what he learned in real combat and letting his teammates down when they needed him most… It was all really starting to build up, but he hid it for Owain’s sake.

“Very well then, pupil! We will start with parrying,” He gives his practice sword a quick spin, and drives it into the ground with ambition. “Come at me, and I will show you how it’s done!”

“...Come at you?”

The prince laughs again, his voice like bells and that beautifully genuine smile gracing his features. “Yes, well, I can’t give you a decent example if you don’t. Worry not, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Hearing that puts Brady at ease, if only a little bit, and he attempts to take a swing at Owain. The boy already seemed to anticipate and map out the attack, and he counters his blow with one of his own, sliding his blade upwards of Brady’s and repositioning himself swiftly, putting the false edge at Brady’s throat. The priest swallows.

“Of course, there are other ways of doing it,” Owain sheaths his weapon with a smug look, enjoying his position as “sensei” way too much. “But this method matches our weapons better,” He taps the case of his sword almost affectionately, as he would if it were one of his personal weapons and not just a sparring tool. “I will show you once more, to be certain you have it carved in your mind! Now, engarde!”

Again, Owain repeats the action, and this time Brady feels him press up against his thigh just slightly, the contact gentle but still noticeable enough for Brady to freeze up instantaneously. “Think you can manage?” There’s that tone again, the one he used the other day, and he really doesn’t want to think about what Owain’s honey-sweet voice does to him. He hopes Owain doesn’t see right through him and know that it’s slowly driving him crazy. _Please don’t be doing that on purpose._

Even after Owain withdraws his blade, he still feels like he’s on pins and needles. “Y-Yeah, I think so,” He steadies his nerves by projecting all his stress onto the grip on his blade, and he readies himself for an oncoming blow. Owain exhales a quick breath before coming at him, and maybe it’s just Brady’s will to try to forget about what just happened or maybe it’s because he’s learning faster now, but he parries the attack with what could be mistaken for precision, taking the shorter boy completely by surprise. Owain stumbles back a few steps, and instinct overcomes Brady yet again, dropping his sword to reach out and catch Owain mid-fall, pulling him up by the waist until they were chest-to-chest. He felt like he was in that ballet class Ma put him in as a kid, an arm draped around Owain’s middle, his opposite hand around his bicep. He felt like dead weight in Brady’s arms, like Brady was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

They look at each other for a couple moments, the place silent aside from the humming of cicadas outside. Owain laughs nervously after a little bit (what felt like an eternity staring into those velvety blue eyes, something he’s caught himself doing a lot more often than he’d like to), breaking apart from Brady to stand on his own. “...Good job,” he smiles, and Brady likes the way his nose crinkles when he laughs. “Although, if you did that with a real foe, they would probably just be confused,” Brady gives a laugh at that, breathier than he meant to, and lets him go, realizing his hands were still on him. He repeats _don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard,_ in his head like a mantra.

“Right. Sorry about that,” Owain recovers quickly from the incident, back to his usual cheerful self in no time at all.

“It was nothing, student! You mustn’t feel obliged to look out for your sensei, for true heroes require no assistance--”

“Yeah, yeah,” He was lucky Owain was such a dork, otherwise he may have been put in a bad spot just then. Owain’s discourse managed to kill the mood, which for once, Brady was thankful for.

** NIGHT 3**

He had a dream about Owain that night. It was his first dirty dream in a while, beings that he usually didn't think about that kind of stuff. No one really made him want to think about it, either, but then again, he hadn't been as close to them than he had been with Owain just within these past few days. He hadn't thought about men in such a way before, and clearly his subconscious was trying to tell him something.

He dreamt of Owain waking him up the next morning, straddling his lap like always, but he'd kiss him awake, waiting for Brady to kiss him hard back. He held Owain by the small of his back, nudging a leg between his thighs and flipping them over, Owain's back hitting the floor while Brady worked on getting the prince undressed. He would leave marks all up the myrmidon's throat, a hand delving into his pants to jerk him lazily, Owain bucking into his limp fist, practically fucking himself into Brady's hand. He could only imagine how that voice would sound when he'd moan out loud, Brady's name leaving his lips like a prayer, over and over.

He was dead set on fucking him until his voice was hoarse, barely able to stand, but the dream didn't last long before Brady woke up in a heavy sweat and cum staining the front of his underwear. He changes into new underwear, actually upset that the dream had ended right at the good part. He had even released before things got interesting.

He managed to fall back asleep after that, and unfortunately he didn't dream of Owain, even though he drifted off thinking about his gorgeous smile.

**DAY 4**

Brady ended up glad he didn't dream of Owain, since it'd be pretty awkward if Owain landed in his lap and felt hardness against his ass. The morning started out as usual for their training regimen, and he swears that Owain lingers in his lap a little longer than usual, but that might just be his feelings making him hopeful again. Owain springs to his feet and leaves him kind of wanting his weight back in his lap.

He gets to the barracks, no doubt distracted by last night's dream, and Owain picks up on that quickly. "Make sure to pay attention today, pupil, for we will be sparring without my instruction today,"

What?

Damn. He didn't know if he could do this independent of Owain's periodical interferences. He hesitates before giving an understanding nod, watching as Owain enters a state of concentration.

"Do not hold back," he says, and takes his stance, Brady mirroring the action to the best of his ability. "I can take whatever you can give me,"

Jeez. Brady was _definitely_ looking too into things at this point, if he really found that last line erotic more than he did intimidating like he was probably supposed to. It was hard not to say something equally as flirtatious back.

"We'll see if you can handle it," is his rebuttal, and Brady reeks of pride. Owain is openly appreciative of the challenge, and he notices the shorter boy's "sword hand" trembling in anticipation.

Their sparring lasts for fifteen minutes straight without a break, and Brady is delighted to see that he's evenly matched with Owain, even if this is hardly Owain's best.

After a while, Owain is the one to claim the winner's place, knocking Brady's weapon from his grip yet again. "Checkmate," is all he's able to pant out, and Brady accepts his defeat graciously, and takes a hold of Owain’s hand when offered to be helped up (they were both a little slippy and slidey because of sweat, but he couldn’t even complain about that).

“You did well,” Owain smiles, lips dry despite the occasional drips of sweating making their way into his eyes. “However, there was one thing that ultimately sealed your fate,” For once, the prince discards his blade before the priest does, and he’s approaching a little closer than normal. Brady feels like he can’t look him in the face calmly like this, not after his, er, _revealing_ dream about the blond.

Before he even has a chance to ask what he’s doing (or to just do whatever it was he was going to do, since Owain seems to have a knack for teasing Brady even when he likely doesn’t mean to, and that kills him every time), Owain has his back pressed flush against Brady’s chest, slipping his hand into his and taking Brady’s weapon by the hilt. He’s so close he can feel their heartbeats together, and that’s all he can focus on until that silky voice brings him back to earth, snapping him out of his momentary trance.

“Are you listening?” It’s like he was taunting him, like he was reading his mind or something. “You’re swinging with strength alone, you lack discipline with your weapon,”

He really wishes he knew what the hell this beautiful boy was talking about. He’s falling under his spell again, and he’s trying so hard to behave himself, but with him this close, he’s all Brady can think about. He hopes to every God that he doesn’t press any closer than he is, but at this rate, it’s more probable that Brady will be the one pressing closer to Owain.

And boy, does Owain know how to talk about everything and nothing at the same time. He’s going on about technique and discipline and all that, again. Hearing him so passionate about something is awfully cute, but it’s hard to focus on his words when his proximity is more of the point of interest here. He goes on and on, and Brady knows he should be listening. But.

He’s about a head or so taller than Owain is, and he can smell the sweat on him, mixed with his natural scent. His nose is right near the myrmidon’s damp blond locks, and he can’t really avoid smelling him at least a little bit. He feels a tightness welling up in his abdomen, realizing then that fuck, he’s hard. Just from that, he’s fucking hard.

Owain hesitates in his little speech, and Brady can’t really… hide anything from him now.

“Brady, you’re…” He turns his head to the side, voice faltering. “Um,”

_Well._

Brady can see a bead of sweat dripping from Owain’s messy hair down the side of his neck. He licks it off of him, tongue tracing a path from his neck up to his ear lobe, sucking his lobe into his mouth and biting gently. He can hear Owain gasp and writhe a little, which Brady assumed was a good sign. His hands play with the hem of Owain’s shirt, pushing up the garment just barely, licking around the shell of his ear. This earns him a proper whine, the sound quiet but still enough to fuel the fire in his growing arousal.

"Brady--"

"Do you want to stop?"

The blond exhales out his nose. The tension in the air is heavy on their shoulders, and Owain looks down like he's ashamed, his face bathed in red. "...No," his voice fills the empty room, and Brady finds himself enticed at the thought of Owain's voice resonating off of these walls as he moans for more. "Please continue,"

Owain lets his blade clatter against the floor in surprise as hands sneak further up his chest, pushing up the fabric up to his collarbone. A sheen of sweat glistens on every part of him, his fair skin sticky and flushed at every corner. Owain sinks back, their hips welded to each others', and the myrmidon bites his lip when fingers pinch at his sensitive nipples, twisting them hard enough to make him squeak in pain.

The action is accentuated with a roll of Brady's hips against Owain's, the friction close to intoxicating. "Ahh," Owain becomes boneless, melting like butter in Brady's arms. Affectionately, he kisses behind Owain's ear, watching as his 'sensei' comes apart before his very eyes.

It was about time he did something about their burdens, he thought, and wastes no time in cupping Owain's crotch through his clothing. Owain can't help but give a weak moan, bucking his hips as Brady's hands press down and work along his clothed shaft, the heel of his hands coming to put pressure on his balls.

"I'm-- going to come," Owain whimpers, his inexperience catching up to him. His grip is tight on Brady's forearm, the only thing keeping him from sinking onto his knees.

Brady understands the urgency behind those words, and moves his hands down to the hem of the prince's pants, pulling them down slowly, along with his underwear, drawing out his hard cock and wrapping his fist around it.

"Ah, fuck," A blissful sigh escapes Owain's throat, and that's the first time Brady has heard him curse. He finds himself fond of it, jacking the prince faster and with more fervor.

"Do that again,"

"Do what again?"

"Say that again," He squeezes the base of his dick in time with his words, Owain's pre-cum dirtying his fingers as he did so. Owain has significantly less shame in moaning now, and he hangs his head as his breath hitches in pleasure, repeating himself yet again.

"Aah, _fuck_ ," He really sounds like he means it, and watching himself pleasure Owain is getting him just as hot and bothered as well. He's firmly thrusting his own clothed erection against Owain's ass as he jerks him off, his breaths coming out in shallow pants. Owain turns to look at him, pink lips parted and blue eyes clouded over with sheer lust, and he can feel each hot puff of air on his cheek.

Brady knows nothing else but instinct.

He accepts this fact as he leans forward on a whim, kissing Owain before he can register what he's doing. Owain doesn't resist, but he's definitely caught by surprise by the act, soon returning the kiss as their bodies rock together in tandem. The kiss becomes less and less chaste, their tongues flicking against each other with an obvious lack of knowledge in how to do what they were doing.

Brady picks up his pace, his hand stroking Owain at a much quicker pace, his own release about to take him. Owain breaks apart, spit dribbling down his chin, and he looks Brady in the eye as he says, "I'm coming...!"

_Gods._

That sends them both over the edge, Owain crying out as he reaches climax and Brady coming in his own pants with a grunt.

Come drips down Brady's fingers and onto the floor beneath them, and they kiss a couple more times, open-mouthed but without their tongue, before they separate and look at each other admiringly for a few fleeting moments. Brady could stare at Owain forever, even more so he thinks, as Owain breaks the silence with his pixie-like laughter, and Brady chuckles tiredly along with him this time.

"My apologies that that was so... Quick,"

"Not at all," Owain looks down at the mess he made on the floor, Brady tucking the blond back into his pants. "It wasn't the first time you made me come in my pants,"

"Oh? I don't recall there being a first time!"

Shit.

"...I'll tell you about it tomorrow," he groans. "...I AM coming back tomorrow, aren't I?"

"...I don't see why not,"

They smile.

**DAY 5**

Brady had went out late to stock up on lotion. Really, he figured he'd be prepared for nothing, not knowing if what they did the day before was just a one-time fling or not. It was... better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.

Owain woke him up, pleasantly, with his hand on his face, and Brady decided he preferred it that way.

As always, Owain led him back to their training ground, hand in hand. They go silently, but this silence isn't uncomfortable, it's much more satisfying. Once they make it, take their weapons and whatnot, Owain makes a proposition...

"Today, the circumstances will be different for this fight!" Of course, Owain hasn't changed at all. "This time, I've decided that you will receive a reward upon defeating me," This piques his interest, looking at Owain incredulously. Owain quirks an eyebrow at him before continuing, "...Of course, I can't tell you what the reward will be. That wouldn't be any fun!"

"What happens if I lose?"

"Nothing special, I presume. More training until you beat me, I suppose."

...Fair enough. Brady smirks, "You've got yourself a deal, then."

"Excellent! Shall we begin?"

Brady knew there was something peculiar about Owain's "reward," so he made sure to fight with all he had. There were times Owain had the upperhand, but Brady was quickly able to win it back, and they clashed swords for what felt like hours before Brady was eventually able to defeat his mentor, leaving Owain on the ground, his sword pointed at his throat. Owain looks dumbfounded, and the expression fades into impressiveness once he realizes he's been beaten by his own student.

"I taught you well!" Brady helps him up off the ground (only courtesy for him to help up a prince), and Owain nods, smiling that brilliant smile. "...I suppose I owe you that reward I promised,"

Brady looks at him expectantly. "Get on with it, then,"

"...Hmm. Close your eyes first." Brady does so, begrudgingly as always. He hoped this wasn't another one of Owain's games.

He wasn't disappointed when he felt a pair of warm lips caressing his own, a hand gingerly placed in his own. The kiss lasts for a while, and it quickly turned heated in that time. Brady held Owain around the waist with his other hand, Owain's left bracing around his bicep as they pressed together closer and closer. After a while, they are out of breath and break for air.

"...Pretty worthwhile reward," Brady says breathlessly, probably looking like a lovesick puppy (and sounding like one too).

"I never said that was it."

_Oh_ , he thinks, confused, but stomach doing backflips in anticipation.

And _Oh_ , he repeats to himself as Owain gets on his knees in front of him and releases Brady's semi-hard cock from its confines. He strokes it a little, Brady looking at him bewilderedly. Before he knew it, Owain is running his tongue along the head of his dick, lapping it experimentally.

He knew where this was going now.

Owain is licking at him at all sides, pausing to bite and suck until Brady was fully erect. Owain's hot mouth takes the head of his cock, a hand steadying one of his thighs. He's making eye contact as he does this, making Brady's heart skip a beat. A hand combs through Owain's golden hair, not pushing him away or pulling him in. He pushes the bangs out of his face so he can see him better, and Owain moves down a little more, half of Brady's hardness filling his mouth. Brady groans, and Owain's cheeks hollow, his head bobbing slowly as he tries to accommodate the entire thing despite his active gag reflex.

When Owain moans, Brady feels it reverberate in his cock, making him appreciate the ministrations all the more. "Owain," he pants out, the blond still looking at him intently.

Owain obviously can't take his whole cock just yet, but he moves and sucks at a reasonable pace, enough to make Brady feel beside himself with pleasure.

"Owain, wait," Owain separates from his rigid organ with a wet _pop_ , spit leaking down his chin. He looked absolutely lewd, but no less beautiful. "I, uh. Came prepared."

He reaches into a pocket to show him a vial with a translucent liquid inside of it. Owain seems surprised. "...You're certain you... want to?"

"Never been so certain 'bout anything in my life," Owain is red in the face, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, nodding furiously.

"...If you're sure, then I would... also like to partake," While his wording was odd, his consent was clear, and that's all Brady needed to continue. Brady kneels down and promptly grabs Owain by the shoulders and firmly presses their lips together once more. Owain reciprocates, happy to take things one step further as he boldly pushes his tongue into Brady's mouth. All the priest can taste is his own essence, which was both weird and strangely sexy at the same time.

He's careful to be gentle as he lowers Owain to the ground, mouth still pressed insistently against his. He pauses to remove their shirts before continuing, his hands roaming Owain's lithe and toned body.

He's so responsive, reacting to each and every touch. Arching his back, moving his hips, making little desperate noises... He was loving it all. He was even smiling into all their kisses, often initiating the next course of action. While Owain busies himself with shucking off his pants and undergarments, Brady utters a quiet, "You're so cute," without thinking.

Owain looks up, and Brady is embarrassed for them both; they are both equally as red, both as confused as to why Brady would say that out of the blue. Owain, as usual, recovers before Brady gets the chance to, spouting off more of his 'brave warrior' drivel just to cover up the fact that he was extremely flustered. "Ha! Y-You... realize that I am a fierce hero and not a baby animal, do you not? Surely, my standards aren't-"

Brady smiles warmly, his thumb rubbing affectionately against his face. “You really are cute,”

“C-Cease your embarrassing comments, please!”

“...Why are you doing this with me?” Owain blinks confusedly. He wasn’t expecting Brady to become this serious all of a sudden, but… He felt for him. “Why is someone like you doing this with a bloke like me?”

Owain has to put on a brave face just to cheer him up, lest they kill the mood right then and there. “A silly question that is! Is it not obvious that I fancy you beyond our student-and-teacher relationship?” Brady is taken aback, and Owain continues his explanation a little more softly. “I have loved you since the day I drew breath,”

Sheesh, always going that one extra step, ain’t he? He’s always so dramatic, but looking at Owain now, thinking about the past few days, he knows Owain is being deadly serious, if not a little over-the-top (but that was simply in his nature, and something Brady had come to love about him, too). He brushes the bangs out of his face, and kisses his forehead.

“I feel the same,”

“Then don’t keep me waiting,”

Brady laughs inwardly, and gladly continues where he left off.

He complies, hoisting Owain’s hips into his lap, keeping his thighs adequately spread apart with one hand as the other retrieves the vial of lubricant he had earlier, uncorking it with his teeth. He pours a generous amount onto his fingers, reaching down and pressing his slicked fingers to Owain’s awaiting entrance. Owain visibly braces himself for what he knows is to come, toes curling in receipt as one of Brady’s fingers pushes inside of him about halfway. He lets out an unsteady breath, worrying Brady just a bit.

“Are you alright? I ain’t hurtin’ ya, am I?”

Owain shakes his head, composing himself a little more. “I will be fine, I’m simply… nervous,”

“There’s nothin’ to worry about, Owain. I’ll go slow,” He pushes his finger in to the knuckle, twirling it around inside of him. Owain’s jaw falls open in a silent moan, but nothing comes out. “You’ll have to relax for me, though,”

Once he feels that Owain is loose enough, he adds a second, pumping them in and out of him carefully. Owain seethes, but doesn’t complain, trying his best to relax his quivering muscles. A few more thrusts of his fingers and Brady scissors him open, the stretch of it making Owain let out a noise of mixed pain and pleasure, hips adjusting to the new sensation. All in all, he was taking it well, but the feeling of a third finger made him wince and tighten up dramatically. It was definitely painful for him, but Owain’s pride prevented him from saying anything about his discomfort. Brady drives his fingers in further, until he feels that Owain is slick and loose enough for the main event.

He rubs the rest of the lubricant over his shaft until it’s practically glistening with the stuff, lining himself up with Owain’s well-prepared entrance.

“...This might hurt a little bit, so just bear it for a while, okay?” Owain nods in understanding, tears still stinging the edge of his eyes from the fingers that were inside of him not long ago.

Brady guides his aching cock to Owain’s hole, pushing it in to the head. He looks up to examine Owain’s expression, which seemed to urge him that he was fine. Brady continues, holding both of Owain’s legs open as he pushes in farther, the thick intrusion making Owain moan out in receipt. It hurt, but the pain was surprisingly good, a slow burn steadily filling Owain to the brim. Brady withdraws and thrusts back in until Owain has gotten used to it, legs splaying wide without Brady’s assistance. Nevertheless, he held Owain by the backs of his knees, making sure he wouldn’t close them and lose this perfect view he had of Owain’s perfect body and boyish face.

He’s soon inside of him balls-deep, Owain’s hips making contact with Brady’s pelvis. The blond is panting like a bitch in heat, chest rising and falling with each breath. They stay like that, Brady filling Owain with his cock, until Owain gives the OK to move. Brady, again, pulls all the way out, before slamming all the way back in, causing the terribly stunning prince to scream his pleasure, his muscles seizing up as Brady rams right into his prostate.

He rocks in and out at a languid pace, and Owain begins to grow impatient, rolling his hips back and meeting each thrust, a means of making their pace speed up. Brady wets his lips before moving his hands to grip Owain by the hip and the small of his back, lifting him into his lap in one swift movement. Owain wraps his legs around Brady’s middle, arms draped around his shoulders. Brady is deeper inside than before, groaning his approval as Owain’s tight walls constrict around him.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he holds Owain around the middle, fucking him deep enough to reach his sweet spot on nearly every thrust. He’s buried inside of the snug channel, Owain feeling better than anything he had experienced before. It doesn’t help that Owain is moaning and gasping right in his ear, fingers in his hair and his weeping dick situated right between them. He can already tell he’s close by the way his sounds become nothing but distorted cries of “Brady, please,” and “Gods,” mixed in with his usual noises.

He can feel his own climax slowly reaching him, threatening to spill over at any moment. Brady pounds into Owain mercilessly, the only sounds filling the room being their respective moans and groans, and the sound of their skin slapping together.

Not surprisingly, Owain comes first, his seed covering both of their chests, breathing out Brady’s name as he does so. The little aftershocks of his orgasm are made apparent in the way he squeezes around Brady in quick bursts, throwing him over the edge not long after. He comes inside of Owain, his trembling hole milking him dry.

They bask in the afterglow, Owain limp in Brady’s lap as they catch their breaths.

“Was… that okay?” Brady asks, breaking the silence.

“Better than ‘okay,’” he laughs as he responds with a peck on the lips, and Brady doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of hearing Owain’s silvery voice.

**NIGHT 5**

They stayed together the rest of the day, laying out under the starlight when the morning light waned into evening. The moon was full and the lightningbugs were out, gently flickering in the darkness like little moving stars.

“Hey,” Owain says to him thoughtfully, as if something was bothering him. “Why DID you come prepared earlier?”

“...You mean the lube?”

“Yeah,”

Fuck.

“I dunno. I just had a feeling, alright? It’s not like I expected it to happen, I just thought… maybe… I should be prepared. Just in case. That’s it.” He feels Owain’s head on his shoulder. The blond was leaning on him.

“If it interests you to know… I heard from Cynthia that you were asking people around camp to train you. She said was willing to help you, but she came to me first because… she was the only one I had told about my feelings for you, and she figured I’d want to be with you more.”

“So you only did this to get closer to me?” Contrary to Owain’s expectations, Brady wasn’t at all mad. In fact, he still had a lopsided grin on his face.

“Well, I mean… Yeah. Kind of.”

“You went through ALL THAT just to get me to _be with you_?? You never thought of asking?” There’s a joking kind of anger rising in his voice, and Owain moves away, slightly afraid of the aura radiating off of the nobleman.

“...Yes! You’re kind of scary-looking, so I was kind of afraid to--”

“Scary-looking?!” They’re both to their feet, Owain scrambling to get away, Brady coming after him. “I’ll show _you_ who’s scary-looking!”

Brady chases Owain all the way back to camp, before they both collapse in Brady’s tent for the night and sleep close to each other for the first time. And it definitely wouldn’t be their last.


End file.
